A Little Christmas Jingle (15 page)

“Me either,” Jack admitted as a Humane Society of Missouri rescue worker carried the crate away. Over twenty birds were all on their way to the Longmeadow Rescue Ranch out in Union, where they'd be evaluated and cared for. “But it's worth it.”

Five ringleaders and more than twenty participants had been rounded up and arrested. Caught red-handed and videotaped. The prosecutor would take the case from here.

He surveyed the empty building, committing the space to memory.

“That's all of them,” Mike said.

“Good,” Jack replied.

“I'm never going to own chickens,” Mike said. “Got my workout chasing them. Enough for a lifetime. Heck, might not even eat them again.”

Jack removed his gloves. “Agreed.” He approached the Humane Society lead to coordinate a few, final things. Then he was free to leave the scene, the uniformed officers doing the final touches like putting up police tape and evidence gathering. Despite the December chill, Jack wiped his forehead, not surprised to find a feather stuck to face. He flicked it to the floor and headed to the SUV, Mike already there waiting for a ride back to the precinct.

“Am I clean?” Jack asked.

Mike walked around him, picking a few feathers off his back and pointing out others that Jack removed himself. “Thanks. I don't want to have to detail the car.”

For warmth, Mike blew on his now bare hands, the heavy, animal-handling gloves removed. “I'm just grateful we don't have to transport any of those cluckers. Can you imagine how loud that van's gonna be?”

Jack shuddered. The noise in the barn had been excruciating. He couldn't imagine having squawking roosters in the back. Relishing the silence, he and Mike didn't even turn the radio on.

They reached the police station, where Jack and Mike filed their reports. By the time Jack caught a minute and pulled out his phone, it was almost six a.m. and he had several messages. He read Kat's text and frowned. After listening to his voice mail, his frown deepened. His underhanded mother had circumvented him quite nicely. Jack rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Hey, up for breakfast?” Mike asked. “Some of the guys are headed to Uncle Bill's.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, thinking that Kat would be up soon, so he could call her before he got some shut-eye. Breakfast sounded like a plan. “Let's go.”

#

Kat woke to the sound of her doorbell and grimaced. Her clock read a little past eight o'clock. First, who was calling this early? Second, she'd overslept.

Even on her day off, she'd normally be awake by six. She'd run a mile or two on the treadmill, shower, and go to the clinic to check on her patients. While today was her partner's turn for rounds, with a patient like Jingle, she'd go in herself too.

The ceramic tile of her foyer felt cold as she padded to her front door. She could see the figure through the stained glass. Not someone selling something.
Jack.

She tugged the door open, letting in a blast of arctic air that made her nipples pebble. She crossed her arms over the thin tank top—the way his blue eyes had darkened revealed he'd gotten a good look. “What are you doing here?”

He stamped his feet on the porch. “Is someone here? I didn't think …”

Her yoga pants rode low on her hips. “No, even in fake dating I'm monogamous. It's just me and my cats. You're letting all the heat out. Come in.”

“Thanks. Figured we needed to talk about tonight.”

“You couldn't just call?”

He shook his head, the blond hair falling in his face. “I'm exhausted. Haven't slept yet. I have a tendency to not make sense when I talk on the phone tired.”

They stood in the tiny four-foot-square landing, and as she was barefooted, he towered over her. She reached up, realizing her hair was a bird's nest, and then realized her mistake. The ribbed tank molded to her breast, her nipple still protruding.

“Uh …” She eased past him, back up the stairs, highly aware of the scanty material she wore. Jack followed, Pippa attacking his heels the moment he stepped into the living room. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, I'm good. Had four cups with breakfast. Uncle Bill's.” He raked a hand through his hair, the blond strands plastering. He had a full stubble beard. He wore blue jeans and a down jacket emblazoned with the St. Louis Police Department logo. He rubbed his hands together. “We do not have to do this tonight.”

She blinked. “Your parents?”

“Yes.” He shoved his hands into his pockets lest he touch her. “We do not have to go to dinner.”

“Look, I knew what I signed up for. If this gets your family off your back, I'm game.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You haven't met my family yet, and I'm sure I'll owe you after the chaos of next weekend.”

He closed his eyes for a second and groaned. “The pet adoption.”

“Exactly. You're my celebrity guest.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “So why don't you go get some sleep and pick me up at five?”

He couldn't resist. He reached for her, dragged her into his arms for a big hug.
Big mistake
. The thin material she wore concealed little, making him instantly hard. Her unfettered breasts crushed against his chest, and he clutched the silky fabric at the small of her back, gathering her to him as he brought his mouth to hers.

She tasted delicious; he drank in her sweetness as he deepened the kiss. He expected her to draw back, and when she didn't, one kiss stretched into another. Two became three. Three turned into four. He slid his hands lower, cupping her bottom and dragging her pelvis against his.

“You were sleepy,” she said, her hands on the lapels of his police jacket.

He slid his mouth down her neck, loving the trembles his lips left in their wake. “Who needs sleep?”

Her hands found his chest, and she let out a shiver as his lips trailed along her collarbone. She rubbed against his hard length. “Oh.” Her whole body shook, and her next “Oh” dragged out longer.

“Like that?”

“Mmm, hmm,” her voice was suddenly an octave lower. She arched her neck, allowing his lips lower. He curved a finger under the spaghetti strap, sliding it down over the swell of her breast. He found her nipple and circled the nub. She cried out again and pressed closer to him, her need evident.

He slid his hand into her top, cupping her breast and bringing the straining nipple to his mouth. He drew it inside, and her breath hissed. With his free hand he cupped her bottom closer to him, locking her hips onto his so he could increase the friction by inserting his leg between hers. He then pulled the other part of her top down so he could suck one breast while he rolled the other between his fingers.

She arched back, and he took the silky fabric and rubbed it across her nipple. He resumed circling her areola with his tongue. She trembled and he sucked deeper, sending her over the edge. “I've never … like this …” She lost words as he shifted his leg, creating more friction. A primal surge shot through him—he'd made her this out of control, this turned on, this responsive.

Little cries came from the back of her throat as she shattered in his arms. He wanted to explore her wetness—taste her sweetness—but he settled for recapturing her lips and keeping her upright as her legs had turned to jelly. A part of him throbbed with need. All he had to do was move his hand lower and he could lay her back on the couch and …

But he had not come here for that. Passion could easily sweep you away—and every time he saw Kat, she tore down parts of his defenses, took down walls he'd built to surround his heart. He wanted no regrets. For either of them.

Brown eyes he could drown in opened and blinked as she came down from the high. He kissed her again—gentler, softer. “Oh.”

“Good?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Your fingers are magical. That was—”

“Fabulous.” He finished, his mouth back on hers for another taste. “Don't you dare say it was a mistake.”

A mistake?
Hell no.
Kat wanted more, and she reached for him, but he caught her fingers before she made contact below his belt. “If you touch me, I'll explode.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

He reached his hands into her hair and brought his mouth down for another crushing kiss. “I haven't showered. I'm a mess. I've had no sleep. I want you. But not like this.”

“Huh?”

“I didn't come here to make love to you. Not that I don't want to. I want nothing more. But our situation is complicated and I haven't even romanced you.” He winced. “Did that come out right?”

“Jury is still out. You got me all hot and bothered and—”

“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. “You are beautiful. I want you. But you deserve …” He paused—for a man who could remember everything, finding the right words shouldn't be so difficult.

She frowned. “Deserve what?”

“More.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I don't have a good track record. I'm not looking for commitment. But friends with benefits sounds somehow cheap. Much less than you deserve.”

Kat crossed her arms. As much as she appreciated Jack's calling a halt, part of her wished he hadn't. “So what do you propose?”

“Let's slow this down. See how things unfold.” The pink silk hugging her breasts made him inwardly groan. He wanted to sink inside her and find the release he craved, and damn the consequences. But his mother had raised a gentleman. Kat deserved better than a roll in the hay. She deserved better than him, too, but he ignored that. “If we change the rules, it shouldn't be because we gave into a moment of passion. Because I don't want any regrets between us.”

“That's fair,” Kat said. She could respect him for that.

He turned, took a step toward the door, clearly reluctant to go. “You said you liked pot roast?”

“Love it,” Kat said.

“Then I'll pick you up at five.”

“We've got a good crowd,” Louise noted the following Saturday. Not yet nine a.m., and the clinic parking lot was full; the lobby was packed. Vet techs wearing elf hats passed out candy canes. A fat, white-bearded Santa Claus sat by the Christmas tree, and an elf assistant stood by ready to take both human and pet photographs with jolly St. Nick.

They'd brought the adoptable animals into the lobby and cleared a way to a special area devoted to cats. The patient rooms had been set aside for getting-to-know-you time. Everyone was working today, including a small army of volunteers who held leashes to very excited, yapping dogs, each one hoping for a new family. The fundraising committee had helpfully sent a huge stack of calendars, and already they'd sold thirteen. Kat expected them to fly off the shelf once Jack arrived.

“Where is Mr. December?” Louise asked, as if reading Kat's thoughts.

“He'll be here at ten.” At least that's what he'd told her last night over the phone. After being all hot and heavy Sunday morning, Jack had then kept his distance, giving her a chaste kiss good night after his family dinner, a dinner that had been interesting to say the least. She'd liked Jack's family—a rowdy and raucous bunch who threw things out there, unlike her family functions, which were much quieter and more sedate. And the pot roast had been delicious.

This week Jack had been busy with investigations, and while he called daily to check on Jingle, he hadn't been by the clinic. That made sense, Kat knew. No need to be joined at the hip, and already the deep timbre of his voice had her anticipating his phone calls. She'd discovered how easily she could fall into bed with Jack—no way should she risk falling for a man who made it clear he didn't want any type of long-term commitment, something she eventually did want. Perhaps her New Year's resolution should be to get back out there. Time to stop making excuses, like telling herself she'd never find Mr. Right, so why bother trying?

“Kat, this is Mrs. Schneider and her daughter Lizzy. They're interested in an older cat.” Angela stood there with a woman and child.

“Black kitty,” Lizzy, who looked about three, insisted.

“She's rather rambunctious. I thought an older cat might be more able to tolerate her enthusiastic petting than a hyper kitten,” Angela suggested.

“A good idea,” Kat agreed, “especially as you can tell an older cat's temperament much better than a kitten's. Have you ever had a cat before?”

“I had them growing up,” Mrs. Schneider said. “It's just me and Lizzy at home, and now that's she's older, I told her we could get a cat for Christmas.”

Lizzy danced on one foot as Kat held out her hand. “Come with me. I have the perfect cat for you.” She led them back to the cat area and stopped in front of a big black and white tuxedo cat. “This is Jinx. He loves kids.”

Lizzy held out her fingers, and the cat eased forward to sniff. “Jinx. Hi Jinx!”

She stuck her fingers through the wires, and the cat rubbed against them. Lizzy laughed.

“How about we put you in a room and take him out of his crate?” Kat asked. “He's neutered and up-to-date on all his shots.”

“My kitty,” Lizzy said, fingers still stretched through the wire.

“Let's,” Mrs. Schneider agreed. “He's a pretty cat. We may just have found the one for us.”

Kat called for a volunteer, who took everyone to get acquainted. Then she turned to see Jack there staring at her oddly.

“Hi. Glad you made it.”

“Quite the crowd.” Jack observed. His hands remained in his pockets, tension obvious.

“More than last year. I'm very hopeful. Our goal is to clear the shelter and place every animal.” Kat drank him in. He wore a maroon flannel shirt tucked into fitted blue jeans, showing his very nice backside. His blond hair was swept back, making him every bit the hot Mr. December of the calendar, albeit with more clothes. “They are going to gobble you up,” she said.